


Love

by atamasco



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Communication, Explicit Consent, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, POV John Silver, Post Season 4, Post-coital banter, Praise Kink, Treasure Island is a lie, all the first times tbh, the most soft pirate husbands being disgustingly in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-16 22:06:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12351486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atamasco/pseuds/atamasco
Summary: This was the part that scared Silver – growing so close to another person that you would become inseparable.This is what Silver tried to avoid his whole life - yet here he is with Flint.--This fic is just a poor excuse for writing disgustingly sappy and sweet first time sex.





	Love

**Author's Note:**

> It took me three months to write this fic which is ridiculous but I really wanted to try and keep it angst-free, as much as that is possible with these two.  
> Please pretend for one sentence that doughnuts were a thing in the early 18th century.

This was the part that scared Silver **–** growing so close to another person that you would become inseparable. He preferred to be free, to be able to leave whenever he liked and never having to look back, so he was watchful of getting too involved. Still, he knew that once he started seeing the signs it would already be too late to come away unscathed. He was already in too deep.

And so it had happened with Flint. Something had grown between them without Silver noticing, and then one day he had noticed all at once. The mingling of their lives was obvious in the rhythm of their daily lives, the sharing of objects, the habits they had formed around each other. It had started a long time ago, when they were still Captain and Quartermaster, perhaps even before that, but the first sign Silver remembers is the one that took place in the Captain’s cabin on the Walrus, shortly after the loss of his leg.

In the absence of a father figure in his youth who should have taught him, Silver had taught himself how to shave. He made do with whatever was at hand – a razor, a knife, soap, water, even dry when there was no other option. After the loss of his leg he had spent his days lying in the window sill of the Captain’s cabin. On one of those days, Silver had asked Flint for a razor so he could shave his stubble. Flint brought him one, along with a towel, a small brush, a bowl of fresh water, and a bar of soap. He set them down on the small table beside Silver’s make-do bed. Silver looked at the objects in front of him, then looked up at Flint confused.

“What are those for?”

“What do you mean? They’re for shaving,” Flint replied.

“Oh. Yeah.” The confused look on Silver’s face remained.  

Flint quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t know – ?”

Silver grabbed the razor from Flint’s hand. “Thank you, I’ll manage.”

He set the razor to his skin and moved it, scraping over his stubble, with Flint still standing there. Silver could feel his gaze on him, but neither of them said anything. Flint returned to his desk.

Silver muttered a curse under his breath when he felt a sharp sting and realised he had cut himself. He wiped a finger over his cheek to see if it was bleeding, and it came back with a red smear on it. He dipped his hand into the bowl of water to wash it off, and continued. It wasn’t long until he made another cut, and another one.

When Silver glanced over to Flint from the corner of his eye, he could tell that something was frustrating him, by his balled fists and tensed shoulders, his hard stare at the log in front of him.

Without warning Flint rose from his chair, walked over to Silver and snatched the razor from his hands. He sat down beside Silver with an exasperated sigh and told him to pay attention. Flint put the razor down and instead grabbed the brush. He dipped it into the water shortly before picking up the soap and rubbing the brush over it in circles, creating a lather. He then used the brush to apply the lather to Silver’s face in short, rough strokes, all the while pointedly not looking into Silver’s eyes. When the lower half of Silver’s face was entirely covered in the fresh-smelling substance, Flint picked up the razor again.

His expression was stone cold as he moved the razor over Silver’s jawline, but his hands felt warm on Silver’s skin. With a finger under Silver’s chin he urged him to tilt his head up, which he did, baring his throat to Flint. Flint dragged the sharp edge of the razor over Silver’s pulse. Silver hadn’t feared Flint in that moment, even with the emotional distance between them. If he had wanted to kill Silver for his betrayal, he would have already done it by now, days ago, weeks.

After that day, Silver couldn’t pick up a razor without thinking of Flint’s hands on his skin. It had been one of the reasons why he’d decided to let his beard grow out.

There was another sign when they were on the Maroon Island. Flint had come out of the battle missing the stud he usually wore in the lobe of his left ear, gotten lost in the chaos of the fight. That same night, as Silver was lying in Madi’s bed, he had watched her take off her earrings and put them in a jewellery box. An idea had spun in his mind, like a small thread connecting one thought to another. He had asked her if perhaps she had a simple earring, like a stud, or a small ring, something that she wouldn’t miss. She gave him a round, silver stud with an uneven but shiny surface. She had looked at him with an amused glister in her eyes, and Silver had felt his cheeks turn pink. He was just being pragmatic, nothing more, he told her and himself. He knew that Flint cared about his appearance, not out of vain but more because he knew the power of an image. And Silver was just trying to help him keep up that image, even in such a small way.

The next day, during a meal, when Silver was sitting across from the Captain, he dug the piece out of his pocket and placed it down on the table in front of his plate.

“Here.”

Flint looked at the small piece of metal for a moment before he picked it up. The thing looked tiny in his broad palm. He looked up at Silver, an unreadable expression on his face. Flint put the pin through his earlobe on touch alone. When it was secured in place, he looked back at Silver.

“How do I look?” he had asked in a teasing tone, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

“Like yourself,” Silver had answered.

It was an honest answer, not intended to amuse the Captain, but it did. Flint laughed at Silver, a rare warmth in his expression, golden sparks in his eyes from the candle light.

 _Like mine,_ Silver had thought. Every time he saw Flint now, he saw that stud in his ear, and it reminded him of how Flint had accepted that small gift from Silver, laughing at him like there was no war, no cash of gems, no ill fate hanging over their heads.

 _Mine._ A strange sense of possessiveness rose in him, fierce and senseless as the word resonated in his mind. He could feel it stirring, restless, clawing on the inside of his chest. Anyone could see that stud, but only Silver knew the meaning behind it. It was as if that simple piece of jewellery was a mark of their bond. A mark that Flint was _Silver’s_.

When they had reunited some years after the end of the war, one of the first things Silver had noticed about Flint’s appearance was the empty hole in his ear. It had stung Silver, made him doubt his decision to come here. He scolded himself – how stupid to feel so strongly about something so insignificant. After some days, he had dared to ask Flint why he had removed the stud.

“It reminded me of you,” Flint said.

“You resented me that much?” Silver asked, despite himself.

“I missed you that much,” Flint answered.

It was in these same days that Silver learned to call his former Captain by a new name. After their reuniting, Silver had been confused about what to call him. He had known the man as Flint – but he was not Flint anymore. Silver hadn’t known him as McGraw, and he didn’t know yet if Flint went by his old name again. And calling him by his Christian name felt just a step too intimate.

Silver had decided to stick with ‘Captain.’ It was the familiar ground between them, and if Flint asked Silver why he still called him that even after such a long time, Silver could always brush it off as an old habit, or as a mocking name.

Flint did ask, of course.

“What do you want to be called?” Silver had asked in return.

“James,” was the answer.  

Flint and McGraw were the names of a man who had tried to live two separate lives. Now that he was one, he was both.

And so, Silver started calling him James.

Becoming familiar with each other again on this new ground had taken some time for them, neither knowing how to go about it, how to ask, where to start even. There was no pretence anymore, no excuses to hide behind. No functions of Captain and Quartermaster that tied them together. There was no necessity, absolutely no reason for Silver to be there with Flint, other than bare, free choice.

Their first kiss was something unexpected for both of them, in all its tenderness and hesitation. Flint seemed almost unsure of himself, with his trembling hands on Silver’s cheeks and the feather-light brush of his lips over Silver’s.

After all that initial dancing around each other, it had just come over them all at once. An initially quiet kiss turned into a desperate need to touch and be close. When Silver’s right leg started to give out underneath him, Flint had wrapped his arms around him and lifted him onto the nearest surface, which happened to be the kitchen table, Flint positioning himself between Silver’s legs. There was no time, no need to find a chair or a bed or a more comfortable place to do this. All they could think was to act upon their mutual desires right there and then, press mouth to mouth, skin to skin.

Both in a haze, taken over by the rush of blood through their veins, the thrumming of their hearts in a synchronised rhythm, they pulled at each other’s shirts, unbuttoned each other’s trousers and reached inside, their hands warm and strong, stroking, their bodies pressed together.

Neither of them had lasted long. It had been entirely un-ceremonial and unromantic.

Neither of them had wanted to let go so soon. They had stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace without any sense of time passing, both grinning like idiots because they still found it hard to believe that this was real.

It had broken the hesitation that was keeping them apart. It was alright, they could let go, they both wanted this.

Still, that same carefulness of their first kiss continued as they went further down this path, because it wasn’t long before Flint noticed that Silver is new to this, loving and being loved by another man. Silver wouldn’t admit it – he hates new things and he hates admitting his inexperience even more, but Flint picked up on it quickly enough, no matter how Silver tried to hide it. He tried to seem sure of himself, but it had been so painfully obvious, the first time he’d tried to suck Flint off. Silver started with some experimental licks to the tip, drawing soft groans from Flint’s mouth. Silver kept his eyes locked on Flint’s as he wrapped his lips around him, Flint’s hand on his head, brushing through his hair.

His own dizzying arousal made it hard for Silver to concentrate on the job, and he definitely had to concentrate because he had no idea what he was doing, except making himself look like an idiot.

It was awkward and more difficult than he’d thought it would be. Silver tried to cover up his struggling best he could, but with Flint looking at him he felt terribly exposed. Silver was embarrassingly inelegant, and the worst of it was that he couldn’t even talk his way through it, babble away mindlessly to hide his nerves, because his mouth was currently occupied differently.

Flint noticed, of course. He brushed a strand of hair out of Silver’s face and tucked it back behind his ear in an affectionate gesture, and he talked to Silver, encouraging him. “You’re doing so well,” Flint said to him. “You look so pretty like this, with my cock in your mouth. I just knew you would be good at this, you always knew how to put that mouth of yours to good use.” 

Silver would have grinned and given a snappy reply at that if he had been able to, but all he could do right then was give Flint a look.

When Silver attempted to take him deeper he gagged – he tried to keep breathing steadily through his nose but his eyes started to water, his jaw ached and he hadn’t even taken Flint that deep yet, he had barely gotten halfway. Flint gently tugged on Silver’s hair, drawing his head back a little, so he partly slid out of Silver’s mouth.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he said softly. ~~~~

Silver let Flint’s cock drop from his mouth and took a moment to catch his breath. “It doesn’t hurt,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I just want to do it right.”

“You _are_ doing it right. You’re making me feel so good. But we can stop, do something else if you want to.”

Silver looked at Flint for a second and then gave him a sly grin. “Surely you must know by now that I’m not one to give up so easily.” He put his mouth back on Flint’s cock, looking into Flint’s eyes as he took him down as far as he could.

Flint gasped, his fingers tightening their grip in Silver’s hair.

Eventually, Silver somewhat got the hang of it. He still struggled but found himself encouraged by the praises and moans that came from above, spilling down on him from Flint’s mouth.

He’d felt surer of himself when he’d fucked Flint, Flint showing him how and then letting Silver take over. The reactions it drew from Flint, his unabashed moans and pleas, throwing his head back as he was lost in ecstasy, had fascinated Silver as much as they had aroused him. It had made him wonder what it would be like the other way around. What it would be like to be opened, owned, undone like that.

To be fucked, really.

So here they are, in bed, Silver lying on his back with Flint kneeling between his spread thighs. A pillow placed under Silver’s lower back to help him tilt his hips, Silver clinging onto Flint’s biceps with both hands.

There’s a hunger inside Silver that has him aching with want, shaking with excitement and nerves. It’s ridiculous, really. What’s there to be nervous about? It’s just Flint. It’s just sex. It’s just pushing a banana into a very tight doughnut.

Flint takes Silver’s right leg over the crook of his elbow. He presses the head of his cock to Silver’s entrance and Silver instinctively clenches.

“Oh, oh. Sorry. I’m…” Silver mutters.

“It’s alright,” Flint soothes. “Try to relax.”

“Trust me, I’m trying,” Silver says. “It’s just that I don’t exactly do this every day.”

“I know.” Flint smiles at him. “That’s why I’m telling you, it’s alright.”

Silver breathes out and tries to relax.

Flint presses the head of his cock into him and Silver gasps, his fingers digging into Flint’s arms.

“Oh, Jesus, fuck.”

Flint halts. “Too much?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s…. a lot. Just….” Silver takes a deep breath and smiles reassuringly at Flint. “Alright. Slowly.”

Flint presses a kiss to Silver’s knee. “It’s fine, darling. Take your time.”

Sex had always been a tool for Silver to keep people close, to make them want him, need him, his own enjoyment nothing more than a pleasant circumstance. With Flint it is completely different – because Flint is focused on Silver’s feelings perhaps even more than on his own. He wants Silver to find equal pleasure with him. Flint helps him relax, allows him the time to build confidence in himself. Flint is always there to anchor him. His palms are safe havens, lifting Silver up, steadying and supporting him.

Flint pushes forward, presses deeper just a little, and draws back. His hips make small circles, allowing Silver to adjust to the feel of him.

Silver gasps and throws his head back onto the pillow. The stretch of it burns somewhat, but it doesn’t hurt, thanks to patient preparation and a generous amount of oil. It’s good, oh it’s good, even better than he’d dared to imagine.

Flint takes Silver’s other leg over the crook of his elbow. He shifts in his kneeling position, taking hold of Silver by the hips, and thrusts deeper into him.

Small, strangled noises leave Silver’s throat as Flint is slowly filling him up. He’s trembling with the strangeness of it, yet how good it feels.

When all of Flint is inside him, down to the base, he holds still. Silver can feel him, hard and deep, hot and heavy, and for a moment the world is only this, their soft breathing and damp skin.

Flint moves his hands up over Silver’s thighs and presses his fingers into the thick muscle. He gives a small, experimental roll of his hips and groans. “Fuck, you feel so good around me. So hot.”

Silver feels full, so full, and somehow strangely calm, the nervous fluttering in his belly settled into a comfortable warmth that flows out to every nerve in his body.

Silver lets out a shaky breath. “You feel good inside me.”

Flint huffs, smiles. “Are you alright?”

“God, yes. I’m……. a lot more than alright. Excellent. Great. Fantastic,” Silver babbles. “It’s just… so much. All of it. This, here, you. With you.”

Flint smiles at him with tenderness in his eyes. “It’s alright. We’ve got all the time in the world. No need to rush anything.”

“I know, I know, but I thought perhaps you do want to feed the chickens at some point this week, I mean, I’m sure they can go without food for a couple of days, even though you ca– ”

His sentence is cut off on a loud moan when Flint starts to move. He draws back and pushes back in, still so frustratingly slow and careful, but it’s enough to make Silver writhe in the sheets.

Flint bends forward to catch Silver’s mouth with his own. Silver wraps his arms around Flint’s shoulders, pulling him in and opening his mouth to let their tongues slide together, meeting and withdrawing.

Silver is surrounded by Flint, experiences his overwhelming presence in every single one of his senses. His scent, musky and thrilling, his skin under Silver’s hands, his low voice in Silver’s ears, his weight on top of Silver, his taste on Silver’s tongue – Flint is around him, on top of him, inside him. Flint is _inside him._

“Look at me,” Flint whispers into Silver’s mouth when they break apart.

Silver only realises then that he has his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Bastard,” Silver grins, and gasps as Flint rolls his hips. “Really, right now? Like this?”

Flint presses a wet kiss to Silver’s jawline. “Exactly like this. Let me see you. Please.”

Silver opens his eyes open for just a sliver, but they immediately fall shut again. “I can’t,” he laughs nervously.

“Why? Are you embarrassed?”

“No. I just don’t think this is the proper time for you to check if I need glasses.”

Flint snorts. He brushes a hand over Silver’s thigh, soothing. “I just want to know you’re here with me.”

Silver swallows thickly. It takes a couple of seconds for him to be able to fully open his eyes. He pries them open slowly, and meets Flint’s gaze.

Flint’s eyes are half-lidded, glassy but focused, his pupils blown wide, making his eyes look dark and intense. A deep blush colours his cheeks. Strands of hair have fallen in front of his face. His lips are parted slightly, letting out soft puffs of air. He looks wild and mesmerizing, untamed and divine. Otherworldly and utterly, devastatingly beautiful.

Flint looks down at Silver and smiles at him, his expression a mixture of tenderness and excitement, promise in his eyes.  

It’s too much, too intimate, yet Silver can’t look away, finding himself locked on Flint’s gaze.

Flint presses his forehead to Silver’s, strands of his hair falling into Silver’s face, lifting Silver’s hips off the bed and almost bending him double. Flint’s breath brushes over Silver’s lips when he speaks.

“God, John, you’re so beautiful. Gorgeous. Breath-taking.”

Silver is trembling underneath him. “You’re one to talk.”

Flint smiles, thrusting into Silver and drawing a whimper out of him as he says, voice low and breathy, “I’ve always thought you were beautiful, right from the moment we met. Those dark curls dancing around your face, those bright blue eyes, that shit-eating grin…” **–** Silver snorts, but Flint continues, unbothered **–** “I’ve wanted you for so long. Even before I knew I could love you. And to have you like this, now, here, in our shared home, our shared bed, is a fucking miracle and more than I ever even dared to dream of.”

With everything Flint’s just said, it takes Silver a moment to find his voice and reply, “Nice trying to talk over the fact that I was just complimenting _your_ looks as well.”

There’s a sudden hint of shyness in Flint’s face as he says, “You don’t have to return the favour.”

“You really have no idea, do you?” Silver teases. “Do you even know how you look Captain, how fucking beautiful you are, you must know – ”

Flint lets out a short laugh. “Captain?”

Evidently, it’s time to change the subject. “I want to be on top.”

Flint halts in his movements. “You’re not enjoying this?”

“No, that’s not – what I mean is, I want to ride your dick,” Silver says. “ _Captain_ ,” he adds, because, well, it won’t hurt.

Flint looks at him. “You think you can…?”

Silver is already pushing at him. “I don’t care if I can, I’m fucking going to anyway.”

Flint lets Silver push him onto his back and Silver straddles him, balancing himself on his right leg, his hands placed on Flint’s chest. Silver’s got some muscle but he can already feel his leg straining under his body weight.

The next couple of minutes are a string of awkward fumbling, starting with Silver trying to get Flint’s cock back inside him from this different angle, figuring out how to tilt his hips to get him where he wants him. After he’s managed that, Silver tries to ride Flint but it’s just awkward shocks of his hips as he finds himself unable to settle into any sort of rhythm. Silver’s brows are knitted together in concentration as he tries to lift himself on his one leg but he’s barely even able to rise from Flint’s lap.

Silver clenches his jaw in frustration, feeling terribly embarrassed and incapable. When he takes a glance at Flint’s face he sees him smiling up at Silver in utter adoration, and somehow that just frustrates him more.

Silver absolutely hates this – the fumbling, the awkwardness, the hesitation at moments when he has to seem sure. Flint isn’t supposed to see him like this. Flint isn’t supposed to _laugh_ at him when he’s bloody trying to impress him.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you think I’m an idiot. Like you think I’m ridiculous. I know I fucking am, alright, you don’t have to rub it in my face by laughing at me.”

Flint raises his eyebrows in surprise. “You think that…? I’m not laughing at you, I’m… Wait, just let me – ”

“Don’t fucking even.”

Flint ignores Silver’s snarl. “Come here,” he says, and pulls at Silver’s arms, forcing him to bend forward, bend his arms, until he’s practically lying down on Flint’s chest, his knees still pressed to Flint’s waist on either side. Flint digs his heels into the mattress and cants his hips up, fucking into Silver from below, and, well, Silver has to admit that this works slightly better.  

“You’re terrible,” Flint says, breathless. “Stubborn as a mule. More stubborn, even.”

Silver chuckles in between gasps. “You love me.”

Flint grins. “I have my weak moments.”

It doesn’t take long before Flint’s own legs start to tremble with the effort of lifting himself over and over, and they turn back to their previous position, Silver lying down on his back with Flint settled between his thighs.

Flint wraps a hand around Silver’s hard and leaking cock, and fire pools low in Silver’s belly.

“Oh _fuck_ , please…!”

Flint picks up the pace, dares to make faster movements, drive harder into the heat of Silver’s welcoming body. Silver tries to spread his legs wider, wanting more, more, all of Flint. They are moving as one, breathing at the same pace, their bodies entangled, clinging together, holding on to each other. Silver lets the sensations wash over him, gives himself over to pleasure in every nerve of his body, moving along in Flint’s rhythm, melting into his touch.

Silver pulls Flint closer by his shoulders to kiss him again, forcing Flint to bend forward and coincidentally driving him deeper, making Silver gasp into his mouth. Their bodies move in a steady rhythm, rolling like the waves of the sea, rising and falling, assembling, growing and shattering, breaking.

How miraculous it is that two people who are so different, inside and out, can fit so well together.

Silver has never experienced this before, being so _one_ with someone. Even if he wanted to, he would never have allowed himself. He’s always been on his own, always made sure to never let anyone close, to never get attached and risk losing himself to someone. Yet here he is, putting all his trust in Flint, and it’s the most terrifying thing he’s ever done, more than fighting a war, more than stealing a schedule from a tyrant, more than betraying the only man he ever loved.

This is what it’s like to be redeemed. This is what it’s like to be utterly, endlessly grateful to a God you don’t even believe in.

Silver tries to meet Flint’s movements – he rolls his hips in time with Flint’s thrusts, down onto Flint’s cock and up into his hand.

Flint groans. “Oh, that’s it, like that, you’re doing so good love.”

Silver should be frustrated at being pampered by Flint. After all, it’s not like he’s a complete virgin – he’s just new to some of this. Yet Flint’s gentle encouragements reach right into his heart, like sunlight seeping into the darkest corners of his being, illuminating him from the inside out.

Silver has his eyes closed. He feels Flint’s fingers brushing over his cheek.

“John.”

How that name could ever sound so sweet.

“I’m here. I’m here,” Silver pants. He opens his eyes, meets Flint’s gaze, and a smile breaks through on his face, and it bubbles up inside him, something unfamiliar and bright, swelling in his chest. “I’m here.”

Silver whimpers and moans as Flint is fucking him, his cock moving inside Silver, Flint’s hand stroking over Silver’s cock. He’s a complete, utter mess and Flint is holding him, speaks to him so softly, like he’s something precious. Something to be handled with care, something worth protecting. It makes him blush with embarrassment, it makes his heart flutter with affection.

Flint grunts. “Oh, fuck, John, I’m close.”  

Silver feels him starting to pull out.

Without thinking, Silver presses his legs to Flint’s body and wraps his arms around him tightly, pulling him in, closer, keeping him in place. Every cell in his body begs for Flint to stay, to keep Flint right here with him.

Flint’s eyes go wide for a moment, uncertain.

“Come,” Silver pants. “Come. _Please_.”

It takes only a couple more thrusts before Flint spills himself inside Silver with a long groan, his head thrown back. Silver can feel it, pulsing, all wet and slick, warm and slippery. Just the realisation that Flint has come inside him is nearly enough to send him over the edge.

“James. James. James,” he pants.

_Mine. Mine. Mine._

Flint comes back down, rests his head on Silver’s chest while his hips keep thrusting almost on their own. Silver clings onto him, a solid weight in his arms as his whole body is shaking.

“I’m, I’m – ”

Flint lifts his head, grabs a fistful of Silver’s curls and pulls, and it’s all Silver needs to stay grounded, to be reminded that he’s here and he’s safe.

“It’s alright,” Flint whispers into his ear. “I’ve got you. Come for me.”

Silver cries out as he comes over Flint’s hand, hips moving frantically, pushing his cock into Flint’s tight grip.

“That’s it. You’re doing so good. So good for me,” Flint says, his nose pressed into Silver’s hair.

Silver holds on to Flint as they rock together through the aftershocks, until they slowly fade out.

Still inside Silver, spent and filthy, Flint kisses him deeply, a little clumsy but sweet. He sags down on top of Silver and for a while they’re just lying there, boneless, catching their breath, sharing in each other’s warmth, their hearts thrumming in their chests, their skin covered in sweat.

Silver is aware of Flint’s weight on him as he stares up at the ceiling. He’s overcome with a sense of wonder, a miraculous feeling that he finds hard to put into words because it’s so unfamiliar to him. It feels _higher_. Open, and calm. Soft and peaceful, swelling, rising, a harmonious chord infinitely extended in time.

Flint rolls off Silver and lies down next to him on his side, throwing an arm over Silver’s belly, covered in white streaks. “ _Thoroughly fucked_ is a good look on you,” he says with a devilish grin.  

Silver frowns. “Is that a compliment to yourself disguised as a compliment to me?”

“You beg to differ?”

Silver scrunches up his nose. “You’re definitely complimenting yourself here.”

Flint’s hand moves up to wrap one of Silver’s curls around his finger. “Well, I didn’t exactly hear you complain at any point.”

Silver turns his head to look at Flint. “Actually, I think we should’ve done this way sooner. Like, the moment we met.”

“That would’ve been at the wrecks, at Nassau. Doesn’t seem like the most comfortable place to do this.”

“Alright, maybe not the _exact_ moment we met. After that.”

“After that we brought you to Eleanor’s office. Not my first choice, given the number of people that were in the room with us.”

“On the Spanish warship then.”

“In the boat when we were hunting sharks in the Doldrums, why not.”

Silver snorts. “Imagine Billy’s face if he saw that through his glass. Or DeGroot’s. Dear Lord.”

Flint chuckles. “Or, you know, we could’ve just done it in my cabin on the Walrus. Since it has an actual bed.”

“That thing would’ve slammed into the wall with every movement. The whole crew would’ve found out about us within a day.”

Flint absentmindedly moves his hand up and down over Silver’s torso. “Perhaps we should get a bit creative then.”

“What are you suggesting?”

There’s a spark of amusement in Flint’s eyes when he simply says, “Desk.”

The tips of Silver’s ears turn red at the thought of Flint bending him over his desk, his trousers pulled down and –

“Or bookcase,” Flint says.

Silver laughs. “How exactly would you see us fucking on a bookcase?”

Flint laughs with him. “Not _on_ it. _Against_ it.”

“You would’ve liked to fuck me against a bookcase. That’s probably the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

It’s overwhelmingly terrifying to melt into one with someone like Flint. Silver remembers how scared he was of Flint once, of being consumed by what lay in the darkest parts of him, until he learned that this man, this force of nature, was fuelled by love. Pure, unshakeable love. And Silver had wondered what it would be like, to love like that. To _be_ loved like that.

He’s never been good at putting his trust in other people because it never worked out right for him. But now, with Flint, he’s willing to take the risk. To conquer his fears of being left behind, being left alone, being discarded when he isn’t needed anymore. Losing half of his heart if there ever comes a day when they’ll be forced to part.

He wants to be caught. He’s been running all his life but right now, God, he wants Flint to catch him, to press him up against the rocks, surrounded by darkness, the thrill of a knife against his throat.

It feels like that, like he’s a hair’s breadth away from making a terrible mistake, and yet here, right now, he’s found a moment of complete peace. He’s unafraid, and he doesn’t know if that’s because he’s finally figured out how to be brave or if he’s just the same fool that he’s always been. His mind is quiet, his body content, and he feels safe in a way that he never has before. ~~~~

He wishes he could stay like this forever, in this room, in this bed, with Flint. Kept safe by him, grounded in his arms.

Flint’s voice cuts through his thoughts. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Why?” Silver answers softly.

“You’re unusually quiet, is all.”

“I’m just…” _Happy,_ Silver thinks, and his heart skips a beat.

Happy?

“You’re what?” Flint asks when Silver doesn’t finish his sentence.

Silver looks at him. He lifts his hand and reaches out to brush the tips of his fingers over Flint’s face, slowly, thoughtfully. He touches Flint’s freckled cheek, the hard bridge of his nose, his bristly beard. Silver studies him, and Flint lets him, staring into Silver’s eyes with wonder. When Silver’s fingers reach his lips, dry and warm, Flint kisses the tips of his fingers, without losing eye contact.

Silver swallows thickly. “I love you.”

Something shifts in Flint’s eyes then, bringing a vulnerable and tender look onto his face. He props himself up on one elbow and bends towards Silver to kiss him softly. Flint cards his finger through Silver’s curls while Silver mirrors the gesture by putting his hands in Flint’s hair. “I’m so happy to be here with you,” Flint sighs into Silver’s mouth. “So happy that you came back to me.”

Silver huffs a laugh. “You don’t have to – I don’t deserve – ”

“Don’t give me that shit,” Flint interrupts, without any real anger in his voice. “I don’t care what you think you deserve. I love you. I love you too.”

There. Flint speaks those words, sounding so easy and simple yet they make Silver feel like he’s falling apart and healing all at once.

Here he is, and this is it.

It’s Flint, and Silver is caught.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3 I'm @undiscovereduniverse on tumblr.


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